Howlin' Wolf

I know not what this blog will serve anyone.
What I do know (nonetheless) is that I will exploit this to inculcate some sort of order, strict observance in keeping engagements in what has become a rather hectic, reckless debauchery of schedule.
I will attempt to make habitual, weekly visits to type; type whatever, however.
To anyone who starts taking an interest in this blog, I will be counting on you to keep me adhesively tuned.
Page 1, I have decided to revisit Howlin’ Wolf.
Wolf reminds me of my favorite jazz pianist (Art Tatum); maybe because of their size, their public eminence (or lack of it – particularly to the …, I'll leave it there!)
Art Tatum is to his fingers what Sidney Bechet is to his improvisation and Wolf to his voice.
Art Tatum, fingers; Wolf, voice.
Maybe I am not making much sense. Maybe I should rest this Vietti Barolo Rocche 2000 (Piedmont) to gather my thought. But, what sense would that make?
One needs to speak of jazz as one indulges in a rare bottle; it is only appropriate.
Now, back to Art Tatum and Howlin’ Wolf.
Bringing forth such parallel between these like features and talents does not neglect or devalue Sidney’s immeasurable contribution to jazz together with his unique, unmatched skills, but it is mentioned to convey something deeper than that.
I will get back to you when I get a hold of it myself.
Until then, cheers.